


Sounds of healing

by FakeCirilla9



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Gen, Lullabies, feanorians - Freeform - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/FakeCirilla9
Summary: Many brothers try to bring Maedhros some comfort but only one of them succeeds.Written for Fëanorian Week 2020, day 2: Maglor, Music & Songs of Power.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29
Collections: Feanorian Week 2020





	Sounds of healing

"I don't know what's with him," Celegorm threw crushed _athelas_ remnants to the fire impatiently.

The tent was clouded with fumes from incense and Celegorm with his worn face and dark circles under his eyes, festooned with various medicinal herbs looked more like a folk shaman than a high prince of the Noldor.

Despite the wisps of smoke hung inside the canvas pavilion, the air was not heavy with it but rather carried on a pleasant smell that livened up senses and spirit alike.

Of all but Maedhros whom the ministrations were chiefly directed towards.

He still laid on the makeshift bed, his skin pallid and red hair without its usual shine. With eyes closed and shallow breath he looked closer to a dead than to a living elf.

"You're a healer, aren't you? Heal him," scoffed Curufin from a darker corner of the tent. He was always able to weave an atmosphere of brooding and offended gloom around himself even on a sunny day when rays of sunshine fell through the wide opened tent flaps.

Still, he was the least annoying one of his brother's, the one that could keep silent and stay out of the way in the shadow when Celegorm worked, so he was the only one Celegorm allowed to stay.

"He _is_ healed," said Celegorm. "I bandaged his right hand, set the fingers straight in the left one, treated the older scars. His body is healed – as much as it can be. He’s too thin and dehydrated and robbed of vitamins. But that's all nought. Here's the problem," Celegorm pointed his head.

"Are you saying he doesn't long to live anymore? But he seemed fine when that dandy oaf brought him back. He talked and ordered like we were still in Valinor. Although the reasonability of his recent political choices shall be questioned..."

"I will not be dragged into talks of politics now. I need a break. And a drink."

Celegorm got rid of his floral necklaces and freed his hair from the circlet that prevented it from falling into his face when brewing concoctions.

"You can watch over him," with that he left the tent.

Curufin shuffled closer to the motionless figure of his brother. Gazing intently into deathly pale face didn't help to read the wretched thoughts of those that did not wish to be spied on. 

"I could forge you a prosthesis of gold. I could repair your smile to its old brilliantness. Many things I could do for you. Even, perhaps, not tell you off for giving away our crown. If only you would come back to us," he whispered, pushing a strand of thin hair off Maedhros’ clammy forehead.

"Looming over him like that won't do much good."

Curufin cast Maglor an unfriendly look, annoyed to be caught during an act that may be read as kindness towards someone.

"Then you stay here, wiseacre. I have better things to do."

Maglor caught him in the passage.

"We are all worried about him, little brother. He'll be fine."

"I'm too old to be told fairy tales," sneered Curufin, wringing his hand out and striding off.

Maglor turned to Maedhros.

"See what I have with them? I need you, Mae."

He sat on the abandoned stool beside the bed and looked at his brother's sleeping form. He told him how he missed him, shoving down guilt for now – time will come later for alleviating his conscience. Recalled to him younger siblings’ antics in the years that Maedhros was gone from their life. Recounted to him all that he learned about new lands, about Doriath and other forests and plains and gurgling ribbons of rivers.

He didn't even notice as the tale passed swiftly into a song. He sang him of all that there was too see upon vast lowlands of Ard-galen. Of rosy sunrises and Celegorm’s horses. Of twins hunting in forests. 

Of new lands, new kingdoms, new lives that they have dreamed of when first setting off after their father from the confinement overseas.

Of wild areas that waited to be discovered eastward and southward behind mountain ranges. That only required an honest companion at the side and a brave heart in the chest. Of friendship and family love and support for close ones.

Maedhros stirred.

Reddish lashes blinked at him, face contorted as if in a spasm of pain but it was still a sign of life better than his brother had shown in quite some time.

"Don't stop," croaked words were barely heard but Maglor obediently begun to hum the first melody that came to his mind that mother sang them as a lullaby.

He reached for the lukewarm herbal tea Celegorm had left there and helped Maedhros take some sips, all the while not stopping the crooning until the last verse rang out.

"Mother sang that," Maedhros said.

"Yes." 

"For a moment I thought... I'll open my eyes and I'll see her. It was dark and desolate when I walked in dreams alone. It was a scary place. But then I've heard your voice in the darkness and I was afraid no longer. And I knew which way to go."

Maglor tried to smile at him but muscles didn't want to listen to his will. He let out a shaky breath. His eyes stung.

"Don't cry". Maedhros looked at him with eyes too big in his sunken face. He also did not smile but his face was lighter than yet moments ago. "How'd you sing me more if you ruin your vocal cords?"

Maglor sobbed. He leaned closer to Maedhros, clinging to him as lightly as he had a presence of mind to do so. 

"I'm sorry," he choked through tears. "I'll sing to you tomorrow. I'll write something for you. Just let me for now... I feared we've lost you. More so than..."

"Shh." 

Maglor swallowed the bile in his throat. Grinned through his tears.

"I can bring you Fingon. He'll be glad twofold. Singing for you and pretending he's better than me at that for a while."


End file.
